It Is Some Dream
by el spirito
Summary: Takes place after Endgame...because I think McGee had a hard time dealing with what happened with Amanda, and I wanted to write some good old McGee/DiNozzo friendship-bonding stuff  with angst and h/c, of course.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This is sort of a tag to "Endgame"

Something was up with McGee. Tony eyed him as he walked into the office late, coffee clenched in one hand. He looked pale, and drawn.

"Are you- are you _hungover_, Probie?" DiNozzo asked, a grin spreading over his features.

"Piss off," Tim mumbled, half-collapsing into his chair and rubbing at his eyes. Tony frowned; Something in Tim's tone was off, and Tony knew better than to push.

"You okay, McGee?" DiNozzo asked, frowning in concern.

"I'm _fine,_ Tony."

"You don't look fine, Tim," Tony said, standing up and making his way to McGee's desk. "If something's going on, you can talk to me-"

"I _said_ I'm fine. Leave me alone."

DiNozzo frowned and went back to his desk, gnawing on the inside of his lip as he tried to focus on catching up on paperwork. He was pretty sure he knew what was going on, but trying to get it out of Tim was going to be a bitch.

"Let's go, we got a body," Gibbs announced, walking through the bullpen. DiNozzo eyed Tim carefully, watching as the younger man's lips compressed into a thin line and he squeezed his eyes shut before pushing himself to his feet. He had to have a pounding headache, and it was only a matter of time before Ziva and Gibbs caught on.

"Hey, McGee," Tony said, fishing a sports drink and some Tylenol out of his backpack. "Take this."

McGee took the offering apprehensively, then nodded in acknowledgement.

"Thanks," he said, then turned to follow Ziva out the door. Tony sighed and shook his head, then followed.

xxxx

Tim McGee didn't get drunk often. He didn't like feeling out of control, he didn't like stumbling home, and he sure as hell didn't like being hungover the next day. So last night…had been a bit of a wild one. At least, it had been wild in that he'd gone to a liquor store and bought a great selection of whiskey and beer, then went home and watched TV and drank all night.

And then to come back to work and have Tony make fun of him, grinning that stupid 1000 watt smile, well, it hadn't been a great morning so far. And now, standing here with the dead body of Marine Peter Jensen leering up at him, the corpse bloated and reeking after a few days in the intense summer heat, Tim McGee was 90% sure that he would be losing the contents of his stomach in the next ten minutes if he couldn't go somewhere else.

"Ziva, interview, Tony, sketch and shoot, Tim, evidence."

Great. He'd be basically crawling around next to the body to get to stupid, insignificant things like bullet casings and tire treads.

And Tony was looking at him again.

"_What_?" Tim demanded angrily. DiNozzo blinked.

"You look like you're going to puke," Tony answered. McGee tried not to look longingly at where Ziva was interviewing the man who'd called in the crime scene, and instead shrugged.

"Look, I've got the evidence covered, okay Probie?" Tim looked up gratefully and nodded.

"Thanks," he said, looking down at the ground.

"I want to talk to you once we get back,Tim."

Tim clenched his jaw. He really didn't feel like talking to Tony. At all.

"McGee. Did you hear me?"

There was something in DiNozzo's tone that surprised Tim, a hard edge to it that asserted his position as senior field agent. It was not a tone he used very often.

"I heard you," Tim muttered finally.

"Good."

With a sigh, McGee turned back to taking pictures. He was not looking forward to getting back.

xxxx

The end of the day had finally come, and so far Tony had seemed to have forgotten about speaking to McGee. Not that Tim minded. Gibbs had seemed to notice that something with Tim wasn't right, but he'd also left him alone, and if Ziva had noticed she hadn't said anything.

Looking around, McGee was relieved to find himself alone, and quickly shouldered his backpack. He had taken all of two steps toward the door when Tony's voice caught him.

"Hey McGee. You didn't think I'd forget, did you?"

Actually, he had thought so. Damn it.

"What do you want to talk about?" McGee muttered, dragging his feet as he walked toward DiNozzo. Tony sat down on his desk and motioned for Tim to sit next to him. McGee reluctantly complied.

"I think I know what's going on, McGee," Tony began, looking intently at Tim. Tim bristled.

"Oh, really? What, exactly, do you think is 'going on' here, Tony?"

If Tony was taken aback by McGee's harsh tone, he didn't give it away.

"I think you're more upset over Amanda than you've said."

McGee remained quiet, clenching and unclenching his hands.

"Why would that make me upset?" Tim asked finally. "Not like I really knew her that well."

"No," Tony said, his voice gentle, "but you liked her. And you thought that she liked you. It doesn't take a genius to figure out that you could get upset after she turned out to be an assassin."

McGee mumbled something about Tony sure as heck not being a genius that DiNozzo pointedly ignored.

"Look, Tim, all I'm saying is that you can talk to me about it if you want to, but one way or another, you have to get over it. Showing up at work with a hangover is unacceptable. Gibbs let it go this time because he trusted me to take care of it. If it happens again, though…" Tony let his voice trail off. McGee glared sullenly.

"Why would I talk to you?" He asked finally. DiNozzo shrugged and gave a little half-smile.

"I've kind of been in the same boat, Probie," he answered. Tim shook his head.

"If I wanted to talk to someone that's 'been in the same boat,' I would go find Jeanne."

There was silence, and McGee realized as soon as he'd said it that he'd gone too far. It was a low blow, one that Tony didn't deserve.

DiNozzo cleared his throat. "Shape up, Tim, or you're going to be in trouble," he said finally, then shouldered his backpack and walked out the door without another word.

McGee watched him go; even amidst the turmoil of emotions, anger and sadness and depression, he knew that he'd just made a big mistake. One that might have cost him a friendship.

xxxx

Lots of people called him Tim- His entire family, most of his friends- basically everyone but his coworkers. So McGee wasn't sure what it was about Tony only addressing him as Tim that was so…wrong. Since their conversation, DiNozzo hadn't once said 'Probie' or 'McGeek' or even plain old 'McGee.' Just 'Tim' and only when absolutely necessary. Oh, Tony wasn't being unprofessional, and it hadn't affected how they worked together, but it was different. Interactions were stiff, and formal, and he didn't joke around anymore.

Maybe worst of all, though, was that Tony didn't seem angry, just…hurt. Somehow, that was a whole lot worse than if DiNozzo just yelled at him and got it over with.

"McGee," Gibbs barked, and Tim looked up from his computer, startled.

"Boss?"

"Autopsy, now."

McGee knew what was coming, and wasn't the least bit surprised when Gibbs punched the emergency stop button on the elevator.

"What the hell is going on between you and DiNozzo?" Gibbs demanded. McGee shrugged.

"Did you ask Tony?"

Gibbs bristled for a minute, staring at Tim with such an unflinching gaze that Tim had to repress a shudder.

"He wouldn't say anything. Said that nothing was wrong."

"So why are you asking me?" Tim knew he was treading a very thin line here, and he was starting to wobble precariously.

"I'm not blind, McGee. You said something out of line to DiNozzo, and you're damn close to doing it again right now. What the hell is going on with you?"

McGee looked down and shrugged.

"Nothing, Boss. I'm fine."

Tim could feel the heat of Gibbs' stare, but he refused to make eye contact.

"Fine, McGee. But you'd better get your act together and make whatever peace you need to with DiNozzo, you understand me?"

"Yes, Boss," McGee muttered, still looking down.

"Good," Gibbs replied, punching a button. The elevator started up again.

Xxxx

"DiNozzo, McGee, go check out the vic's home. Ziva and I will interview the brother."

Tony stood up and shouldered his backpack, making eye contact with Gibbs. The team lead wasn't exactly being subtle in his efforts to force Tim and Tony to get back on the same page. Gibbs raised an eyebrow and DiNozzo nodded.

"Let's go, Tim," he said, walking out of the room without checking that McGee was following.

The car ride started out awkward and completely silent. Tony turned on the radio, flipping through it multiple times without finding anything good to listen to, finally giving up and reducing the car to silence again.

"So. Have a good weekend?" DiNozzo asked.

"Yeah."

"Me too."

More silence.

"Pretty rainy today," Tim commented.

This was going to be a hell of a long ride.

xxxx

The victim's house was an average one, two stories, nice lawn, American flag flying. DiNozzo pulled the car into the driveway and walked up to the front door, Tim trailing behind him. He knocked, though the victim lived alone, then tried the doorknob. Locked.

"Great," he grumbled, standing back and then kicking the door open.

Despite their issues, they still quickly and efficiently cleared all the rooms, before looking for any clues as to what had befallen the Marine.

Tony went upstairs to his office, looking through documents and photos, while Tim started going through stacks of mail on the table downstairs.

"Hey DiNozzo, you get anything?" Tim called after a fruitless search through Jensen's mail.

There was no answer, and McGee ground his teeth. Was DiNozzo really going to make him walk up the stairs to talk to him?

"Real mature, Tony," Tim called as he clomped up the stairs.

At the top, he frowned. Still no answering call.

"Tony?" Tim said, drawing his sidearm. "DiNozzo?"

He stepped into the office. There was a _bang_, before a flash of pain shot up his arm. Tim looked up, startled, at a man holding a smoking gun. The man looked terrified. McGee tried to say something, but his mouth didn't seem to be working, and all he could think was _pain._

Then he collapsed to his knees before falling onto his back.

Unconsciousness was creeping up quickly, and McGee fumbled to get his phone out. The man who'd shot him snatched it out of his hands.

Panting heavily, McGee turned his head to the left.

And stopped.

Tony's body, hidden behind the desk, was suddenly visible. His face was coated in blood, from his nose and cheek and lips and head, and he was staring blankly at a point beyond McGee's head.

"DiNozzo?" Tim gasped, trying to see if the older man was breathing. "Tony?"

Unconsciousness overtook him before he could tell.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thanks for the great response to the first chapter! I realized that I once again forgot to disclaim them, so I'm doing so now. Disclaimed. Anyway, thanks again and hope you enjoy this chapter!

xxxx

"Tim? Tim!" Somebody was saying his name, and whoever it was was getting increasingly annoyed. "Probie! Damn it." Whoever was talking sounded hoarse, congested, and he trailed off with a groan. With supreme effort, Tim cracked his eyes open.

"Hey Tim. You had me freaked out a little bit." McGee squeezed his eyes shut again as he remembered what had happened and his shoulder erupted with pain.

"Tony?" He moaned, opening his eyes again, fully this time. DiNozzo was sitting next to him, one hand pressed heavily onto Tim's shoulder. His face was pale beneath the blood and the bruises that were starting to make themselves known. There were bruises starting to pop up around Tony's throat too.

"Tony? What happened?" Tim ground out. DiNozzo moved to shrug, then winced. He swiped a hand under his still bleeding nose, smearing even more blood across his face.

"He was in the closet. I should've seen him, but…anyway, he hit me in the head. After I fell, he hit me in the face a few times before I passed out."

McGee frowned. "What about your neck?" Tony turned away uncomfortably, hiding the bruising from Tim.

"He held me still while he hit me."

McGee groaned. If the man was holding Tony's neck, he was probably sitting on him too, which meant broken ribs.

"Where is he? How long was I out?" DiNozzo wordlessly pointed. The gunman was pacing in front of the window and seemed to be patting down the wall.

"You've been out five minutes, max, and he's been doing that the whole time."

"What the hell?" Tim gasped.

"I dunno," Tony answered. His words were a little slurred, and McGee frowned up at him.

"You okay?"

DiNozzo snorted. "About as good as you."

Tim shook his head and inspected his partner; Tony's mouth was hanging open, his nose too swollen to allow him to breathe properly, and one eye was swollen shut. Blood had stained the entire front of his shirt and continued to drip off his chin, though whether from his nose, head, or cheek Tim couldn't tell.

"Yeah, right," McGee said finally.

DiNozzo chuckled. "You got me, Tim. I'm pretty sure I've got at least one loose tooth."

"Hey!" Their assailant barked suddenly. He seemed to have forgotten that they were there until now.

"Listen, you've taken two federal agents hostage," Tony said. "If you let us go now, you might-"

"Shut up!" The man yelled, waving his gun. Not his gun. Tony's gun. "This is only going to take a few minutes. Just- just don't do anything, okay? Nobody gets hurt." He left the room abruptly, leaving McGee and Tony confused.

"What the hell is going on here?" McGee muttered. DiNozzo sighed and leaned his head against the wall with a wince.

"He's looking for something. Damn, isn't it pathetic that we can't get out of here? I mean, the guy leaves us here alone, and we're both too beat up to make the most of it."

"Yeah, well, he took our guns and our phones _and_ the keys, so I doubt we'd get anywhere anyway."

Tony was quiet a moment before speaking. "I'm sorry, Tim."

McGee shifted, wincing. "What the hell are you sorry for?"

"Let him get my gun," Tony answered. "You got shot with my gun."

"He punched you in the head, Tony."

Tony shifted uncomfortably.

"What? DiNozzo, what?" Tim asked.

"He didn't…he didn't exactly _punch_ me."

"What the hell does that mean?"

He, uh, he hit me with something."

Tim felt his stomach drop.

"What did he hit you with?"

"Not sure. But it hurt."

McGee dragged himself up, wincing and grunting in pain, until he was half-sitting, half-slumped against Tony. Carefully, he leaned over Tony and peered under the desk.

"Oh, shit," he muttered. Lying on the floor was a fist-sized hunk of jagged rock, probably used as a paper weight, and there was blood on it. Tim cast a worried look at DiNozzo; the older man was even paler than before, breathing thickly through his mouth. And from this angle, McGee could see the side of Tony's head that had been hidden before. It was damp with blood, his hair matted in it. _Oh, shit._

"It's not too bad," DiNozzo said suddenly, startling McGee. Tim hissed as he jumped and jostled his shoulder. Tony muttered an apology that McGee waved off before clutching at his shoulder. It was throbbing in time with his heart, and Tim suddenly felt light-headed.

"You need to keep pressure on that, Tim," Tony murmured. He started to unbutton his shirt, but his movements were worryingly uncoordinated, his fingers fumbling over his buttons.

"Tony," McGee moaned, gritting his teeth. "'S okay."

"No, it isn't," DiNozzo argued, cursing quietly as he continued to struggle with his shirt. Tim was getting more concerned as Tony went on.

"Tony," he started again, but Tony shook his head.

"Got it!" He yelled triumphantly when he finally got his shirt unbuttoned. He managed to get strips torn off more easily than undoing the buttons and pressed a wad against the wound, then wrapped the rest tightly around Tim's shoulder. It was a patchy job at best, and they both knew that McGee was going to need some real medical help soon.

Tony had just finished wrapping Tim's shoulder when the gunman came back into the room, zip ties in hand. DiNozzo groaned.

"Okay, both of you, hands behind your back!" The man yelled. McGee tried to comply, stopping with a barely stifled yell after minutely moving his arm.

"His arm's hurt," Tony said, his voice weaker than it had been. McGee noticed that he was squinting in pain, probably from a headache. "You put his hands behind his back, it'll pull at it, keep it from clotting. Unless you want the murder of a fed on your rap sheet, you'll let him keep his hands up front."

The man stepped forward and backhanded Tony across the mouth as McGee shouted his name. DiNozzo yelped and slid down the wall, his eyes rolling in pain. With effort, he pulled himself sort of upright, slumping against the wall. He grit his teeth as his arms were yanked behind his back and the zip tie tightened painfully, but noticed with satisfaction that at least the gunman allowed McGee to keep his arms in front.

"I don't want any more trouble out of you, you understand?" The man demanded, pointing firmly at Tony. DiNozzo managed a weak nod before clenching his teeth and groaning in pain. "This won't take too long and then I'll leave and you can call whoever you need to, okay?"

McGee frowned in confusion.

"What are you doing?" He asked finally. The man turned abruptly on him, eyes flashing, fist raised. Tim flinched away, eyes squeezed shut.

"Leave him alone," Tony muttered, trying to sit upright and failing. "Please."

The man inspected both of them for a minute before shrugging and turning back to whatever he was looking for.

"Just- don't talk- Tim," DiNozzo gasped, breathing heavily as he rode out a wave of pain.

"Tony, is it a headache?" Tim asked. DiNozzo grunted an affirmative.

"Think this- is worse than- normal con-concussion," he stuttered. Tim felt a spike of fear at his friend's admission; it must've been bad if Tony was admitting to it.

"Gibbs is going to get here soon, and we're going to be fine," McGee said, trying to keep his voice steady and confident. He had no idea how long Gibbs would be interviewing people, and he had no idea how long Tony had, and he had no idea how their volatile captor was going to react to anything. He was erratic and unpredictable, which made him far more frightening than someone with a plan.

"Tim," Tony gasped.

"Yeah?" Tim answered, scooting closer to DiNozzo's side.

"'M sorry," Tony said.

"Tony, we went over this, it wasn't your fault-"

"N-no, not that. 'Bout 'Manda."

McGee's stomach sank.

"Don't apologize about that. You did nothing wrong. I was being pissy."

"No," Tony said. "Shouldn't 've made th-that comp-comparison. Wasn't right."

"It was fine, DiNozzo. You didn't do anything out of line. I was out of line. I was- I was mad, and depressed, and you were right, you know?"

"Mm," Tony replied. McGee frowned.

"You still with me? Tony?" Tim scooted even closer, so that Tony was leaning up against his good shoulder.

"Y-yeah," DiNozzo murmured. "You 'kay now?"

McGee shook his head, surprised at Tony's ability to stay focused on Tim's problems while he was so out of it.

"I'm getting there, DiNozzo. I'll be okay."

"You- you'll find somebody, Tim," Tony said, his voice barely a whisper. "Who 'preciates you." Then he slumped forward completely, his body dead-weight against Tim's.

"Tony! Tony, come on, stay with me," McGee muttered, but DiNozzo was slack, limp. McGee shifted as best he could so that Tony was more or less lying in his lap, horrified at the sight of Tony's bloodied head. There was so much blood…

"Just hang on, DiNozzo. Help's coming. Just hang on."


	3. Chapter 3

"You're bleeding," Tony said, staring with unfocused eyes at Tim's shoulder. McGee glanced down, surprised to see that the shirt-bandage was red with blood.

"Oh," he murmured. "Yeah."

DiNozzo started to struggle upright, but he groaned with the movement of his head and McGee gently pushed him back down.

"Take it easy. I'm okay," Tim said, though he was starting to get light-headed and woozy. Their captor was getting increasingly frustrated, rifling through a large filing cabinet.

"Where is it?" He bellowed. "Where the hell is it?"

Tony painfully turned toward the man.

"Where's what?" He asked. The man answered without pausing in his frantic search.

"The money!"

Tim watched the man closely, the wheels in his head turning.

"What's your name?" He asked. The man stopped, turning to glare at them threateningly.

"Why do you care?"

Tim shrugged with his good shoulder. "Just curious."

The man turned back to the filing cabinet.

"Brian Davies," he said finally. McGee felt his eyes widen and he glanced at Tony to see if the older man had had the same reaction, but Tony gave no indication that he'd heard.

"DiNozzo," McGee hissed. "Didja hear that?" Tony groaned and blinked.

"Wha?" He slurred. His eyes were disconcertingly unfocused.

"His last name is Davies," Tim said. "Like our vic." He looked hopefully at Tony, hoping his partner would connect the dots, but DiNozzo continued to stare off into space.

"I think it's his brother, Tony," McGee said, feeling a small ball of excitement growing in his stomach. "Gibbs just has to put the pieces together, and then he'll come save us."

DiNozzo blinked, showing interest in what Tim was saying for the first time. "Gibbs?" He repeated blearily.

"Yeah, Tony, Gibbs," McGee answered with growing despair. It was becoming brutally clear that there was something seriously wrong with DiNozzo.

"Not too much longer, Tony. Hang in there, okay? Stay with me."

"Hey! Shut up!" Brian yelled suddenly. Tony winced at the loud noise, and Tim awkwardly rested a hand on Tony's leg in an attempt to offer him some comfort.

"Please," Tim said, growing desperate. "Please, just-"

"What did I say?" Brian roared, stomping toward McGee. "I said shut up!" He raised his hand to strike McGee, but Tony interrupted.

"No! Please, don't-"

He was cut off by a crushing blow to the ear.

"No!" Tim yelled, even as Tony cried out in unmistakable agony.

"Look, just- just wait until I find the money, and then you can go free, okay?" Brian said, standing. McGee was startled by his abrupt change of mannerism, unsettled by their captors' seeming instability. Still, that wasn't his biggest problem. Tony was lying awkwardly on the floor, curled up as much as his tied hands would allow him, groaning quietly.

"Tony?" McGee whispered, trying to reach his trembling friend. "Tony?"

"I- I can't- _gah!_ It hurts, Tim, holy _shit_ it hurts," DiNozzo whimpered, his breath coming out in harsh gasps.

"Hang on, let me see, Tony," Tim said, scooting close and gently tilting DiNozzo's head. Tony cried out in pain, voice breaking off into a sob, and McGee swore under his breath as he got a look at Tony's ear. Blood was trickling out of it, starkly crimson against DiNozzo's pale skin.

"Oh, shit, Tony," Tim muttered.

"Can barely hear you," DiNozzo said, starting to move in a panic. "Why can't I hear?"

"I think he burst your eardrum, Tony," McGee said, his heart sinking. As if Tony didn't have enough to deal with already, this was going to make things significantly worse.

"Hurts," Tony whispered, trying again to curl in around himself.

"I know, just hang on," Tim answered quietly, trying to sound more confident than he felt. A wave of dizziness washed over him and he shook his head in an effort to clear it.

"Okay?" Tony said quietly, turning his head to gaze blearily at Tim.

"I'm okay," Tim responded. "Bit dizzy."

"Bleeding," DiNozzo said helpfully. Tim glanced down; the bandage was now so saturated that blood was starting to drip onto the floor.

"Yeah, guess so," McGee said, bringing his hand up as best he could to put pressure on it. "I think I might lay down, DiNozzo."

"Mmm," Tony grunted, shifting slightly in an attempt to give Tim more room. Tim smiled wanly.

"Thanks," he said, painfully sliding down the wall and leaning onto his good side.

"'M just gonna rest a minute, okay?"

"Me too," DiNozzo slurred, eyelids drifting shut. Tim knew that he should be worried, that for some reason DiNozzo shouldn't be sleeping, but then he found the pull of sleep too strong to overcome himself, and he surrendered to the darkness.

xxxx

The door swung inward, revealing a woman who was clearly distraught, eyes red from crying.

"NCIS," Gibbs said as both he and Ziva flashed their badges. "Is your husband home?"

"No, he left a few hours ago," the woman said.

"Mrs. Davies, do you have any idea where your husband went?" Gibbs asked.

"No, I don't. I'm sorry," she said, wringing her hands. "I just-since Bill died, I don't-" She quickly disintegrated into sobs, her shoulders shaking. Gibbs frowned, pursing his lips as the woman cried, clearly uncomfortable.

"Give us a call when he gets home," Ziva finally directed, handing the woman a business card. "And if you think of anything that could help us with our investigation into Bill's death, let us know."

They had just gotten to their car when the woman called after them.

"Wait! I remember something," Mrs. Davies said, hurrying out of her house and down the front steps after them. "I don't know if it'll help, but…"

"Go ahead, Mrs. Davies," Ziva said.

"The day that- that Bill died, my husband was acting kind of strangely. He was muttering something about money, I think, and he said something about someone 'owing him?' I don't know what it meant, maybe nothing, but he disappeared right after that and I don't know where he went."

"Had your husband and his brother seemed different to you before that?"

The woman hesitated, clearly trying to remember. "There was some tension between them, but they don't always get along, so I didn't think it was that strange. Come to think of it, though, I hadn't seen Bill for a few weeks before his death, and he usually came over at least once a week."

"Can you think of any reason why there might have been that tension?" Gibbs asked. Mrs. Davies shrugged.

"Brian's been worried about finances lately, and he's always been a little bit- well, volatile. He always does things he regrets when he's stressed."

"Ziva," Gibbs said, heading to the car.

"Thank you," Ziva said to the woman, hurrying around to the passenger side of the car. Gibbs was already behind the wheel, jamming the key into the ignition.

"Boss?" Ziva said as they peeled out of the driveway.

"Call DiNozzo," Gibbs answered tersely.

"I can't get a hold of Tony or McGee," Ziva said.

"Damn it."

"Gibbs?"

"I think Brian Davies killed his brother over money. I'm not sure if he loaned money to Bill that didn't get returned, or if he and Brian went in on something together and didn't hand over his portion, but it doesn't really matter at this point. "

"So he went to his brother's house to find the money that he wants."

"Yeah," Gibbs said, jerking the wheel to the left.

"Where we sent Tony and Tim."

"Yep."

"And now they aren't picking up."

"Uh-huh."

"Shit."

xxxx

McGee forced his eyelids open, peering blearily around him. Davies was now rummaging through the closet, throwing a startling variety of items out behind him. Tony was still unconscious, his head and ear still bleeding sluggishly.

"DiNozzo?" Tim muttered, nudging DiNozzo gently, then hissing in pain as his shoulder was jarred. "Come on, man, wake up."

Tony stirred slightly, then opened his eyes. They were disconcertingly unfocused.

"You okay?" McGee asked, then mentally berated himself. Of course Tony wasn't okay.

"Huh?" DiNozzo answered, and Tim wasn't sure if it was because of his hearing or because of his head injury.

"How you doing?" Tim asked, clearly enunciating every word.

"'M fine," Tony mumbled. McGee rolled his eyes.

"Sure you are."

"How 'bout you?"

"Better than you."

"Show off."

They lapsed into a comfortable silence, McGee watching Davies' frenzied actions, Tony concentrating on breathing through the excruciating pain radiating from his ear and head.

"Oh! Oh, you clever bastard," Brian suddenly exclaimed, reaching for something in the ceiling. Tim prayed that Davies was finally finding whatever it was he was searching for, prayed that DiNozzo, that _he _would be able to hold on a bit longer.

McGee had just let out a sigh of relief when three things happened at once.

Davies laughed as he pulled a cord and a ladder came down from a spot in the ceiling, clearly leading to an attic.

A car pulled up outside of the house.

And Tony gave Tim a long look, maybe of apology, maybe of goodbye, before his eyes rolled back in his head and he started to seize.


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Sorry this took forever! I lost an initial draft and started a new story, so this one kind of lost some steam…anyway, here it is. Probably a couple chapters after this, hopefully with more frequent updates!

xxxx

Tim knew first-aid, had gone to the classes, had been made fun of by Tony when he almost passed out practicing rescue breathing. He knew what to do during a seizure, and he knew what not to do. You sure as hell didn't hold them down.

"Tony! Damn it, untie his arms! Davies! Untie his arms!" McGee watched in horror as DiNozzo's jerking continued, his wrists bloodied, before a particularly violent jerk led to his shoulder popping out with a sickening crack.

"_Damn it!_ Please! He can't go anywhere!" Tim could feel himself getting desperate as Tony continued thrashing, his eyes rolled back and foam dribbling at his mouth. He'd urinated at some point.

Davies wasn't listening, instead fashioning a barricade at the door and closing all of the curtains in the room. Tim cursed under his breath, knowing that their captor had just added precious time to their rescue that should have been spent getting Tony the medical care he needed. Tony, who had finally stopped seizing and was lying utterly still, his breaths coming in short, harsh gasps.

"Tony?" McGee whispered, nudging Tony's shoulder. He let out a small sigh of relief when he heard someone knock on the outside door, but the relief faded quickly as Davies shoved the massive desk in the middle of the room in front of the door.

"T-Tim? Th' hell happened?" Tony slurred, staring at Tim with unfocused eyes.

"You had a seizure," Tim answered softly. DiNozzo tried to lift his head but eventually gave up and let it rest on the floor. His pale cheeks reddened slightly.

"S-sorry. 'Bout the mess," he murmured, already blinking sleepily.

"Hey, stay with me," McGee said, but in all honesty, he was on the verge of passing out again himself.

"You," Davies barked suddenly, pointing at McGee. "Get him up. We're going in the attic."

Tim didn't have the strength to come up with a snarky response, so he settled for laughing weakly.

"You really th-think either of us can stand?" He said, blinking in an effort to keep the encroaching blackness from taking over his vision. He was only mildly surprised when he found a gun shoved in his face. Tony made a small sound of anxiety and attempted to move to Tim's side but was barely able to budge.

"'S okay," Tim murmured, though it was a blatant lie.

"Get. Him. Up. Or I will."

Tim nodded and levered himself up on his good arm.

"Tony, we gotta get up," he said, blinking rapidly as the room spun around him. He groaned slightly.

"U-up?" Tony slurred.

"Yeah," McGee answered, too drained to explain.

"Don't think I c-can, Elf L-lord," Tony murmured with a wan attempt at a smile.

"I know," Tim whispered under his breath. "I'll hold your arm. Let's just try to get y-you sitting up, huh?"

"'Kay," Tony agreed weakly. Tim gripped Tony's arm with his good hand and tried to ease Tony upright. DiNozzo grunted in pain and his eyes rolled partway back in his head.

"Hey, hey," Tim muttered, patting clumsily at Tony's face. Tony roused slightly and offered Tim a half smile.

"S'rry," he murmured, trying to sit up.

"Damn, you guys are taking too long," Davies muttered suddenly, wrenching McGee up by his bad arm. Tim let out a scream of pain before passing out completely.

He came to in what he guessed was the attic. His good hand was tied to the radiator and he was alone.

"Tony?" He called, his throat raspy and dry. "D-DiNozzo?"

A few seconds later, Tim heard heavy footsteps interspersed with angry curses. Davies' head appeared, followed closely by his shoulders. Tony's lax body was draped over them.

"Holy shit," McGee whispered. "Is h-he?"

"Don't know," Davies answered, dumping Tony unceremoniously to the floor. Tim cursed loudly, his voice breaking as he stared at DiNozzo. From where he sat, he could only see the side of Tony's head, bloodied and almost sunken. He couldn't see if he was breathing or not. The sight of Tony's head combined with his own injuries proved too much, and McGee retched uncontrollably.

"Damn it," Davies swore, aiming a kick in Tim's general direction. "That's sick, you little bastard." As he spoke, Davies tied one of Tony's hands to the radiator next to McGee. Tim prayed that that meant Tony was still alive.

"Please," Tim said as Davies dragged a huge trunk over the trapdoor. "Please, let m-my friend get help." DiNozzo had yet to move since being tied up.

"Shut up," Davies answered absently. He started rifling through boxes, flinging their contents haphazardly.

"DiNozzo," McGee said, nudging Tony's leg with his foot. "Please, Tony, p-please be okay."

Tony stirred slightly but didn't regain consciousness. He looked terrifying, his whole face bloody, the entire side of his head matted with blood.

"Tony. I sw-swear I will tell the n-new receptionist you're g-gay if you don't wake up," McGee said, nudging Tony again.

"Mm?" Tony murmured, unfocused eyes blinking open.

"Oh, thank God," Tim breathed. "How you doing?"

Tony seemed perplexed by the question, blinking heavily.

"Huh?"

"That good," McGee muttered to himself. DiNozzo needed medical help. Now.

"Yes! Finally, holy hell, I finally found it!" Davies yelled, holding up a fat wad of cash.

"G-great," Tim said, sighing in relief. "Please, let us go."

Below them, movements were audible, probably people attempting to shove the door in. Davies paused a moment, the money in one hand.

"No. No, I think you're more useful up here," he said, starting to look for something again.

"Wh-what?" McGee asked. The situation had just taken a completely unforeseen turn. Tony, meanwhile, had gone limp again, his head resting on Tim's shoulder.

"Ah. Perfect," Davies said, squeezing a bottle of something and splashing liquid around the attic. Tim's eyes widened.

"No, no, please, no," he said, trying not to panic. The can Davies was holding was a can of Coleman camping stove fuel.

"Sorry," Davies said, holding up a lighter. "But you guys are my diversion." He tucked the money into his shirt and looked out the window, then shrugged at Tim.

The lighter dropped, and flames erupted. Davies took a deep breath, then ran out the window, bursting out the other side in a chorus of shattering glass.

"Help us! Gibbs!" Tim yelled, coughing as the smoke became thicker. Tony didn't move, and McGee was worried he was already dead.

"Gibbs! Please, someone," he whispered, his voice tapering off before giving out altogether.

As his vision darkened, Tim could only take solace in the fact that at least he'd see Tony on the other side.


End file.
